The Landslide Series 2: Plus One
by KSPretenderFan
Summary: Sequel to Landslide. Do John and Zoe want the same thing? Read to Find out
1. Chapter 1

AN: I couldn't leave you wondering why Zoe took off at the end of Landslide now could I? Obsessed I am with these two, they practically set my TV on fire when I watch them.

* * *

**Chapter 1:**

He was at a park, standing by a copse of trees waiting, watching, observing. Every day, rain or shine, she was there, running at a pretty good clip by his calculation, a nine or ten minute mile, occasionally, an eight minute mile. Every day, five miles a day, neither rain nor sleet nor snow could stop her. What was she running from? Who was she running from? Him? Them? What?

He was there skulking around like a stalker for one reason and one reason only: to find out exactly what was going on in her mind. She was different, somehow. When he woke up alone in the penthouse, he couldn't say he was surprised to find she was gone. He was just curious as to why she felt that she had to leave without saying goodbye. The subsequent times he had tried to get a hold of her, she was rather cryptic and non-committal. If he were the insecure sort, he would think she was avoiding him, that all she had wanted from him was that one night, but he knew, he just knew that it hadn't been that way with her. She wasn't the type to have reckless, meaningless one night stands. Especially not with someone she would potentially work with from time to time.

Her footfalls reached a steady staccato as she rounded the corner of the trail around the park. Wearing her usual attire of running tights, long sleeved top, her ipod hooked up to her right arm, her baseball cap shielding her face along with her sunglasses, she is unrecognizable as the unflappable Zoe Morgan, Crisis Manager to the powerful. Her stride lengthened as she increased her speed. _What are you running away from little girl?_ John couldn't help but think.

* * *

**Mile One: *Pathetic***

Her Gramin Foreunner told her she was running a nine and a half minute mile. It wasn't fast enough damn it. She needed to be better, faster, smarter, than everyone else. Her clients depended on her. She never thought she needed anyone, no one but herself. She made a life for herself, by herself. She needed no one. _Pick up the pace Zoe._ She lengthened her stride some more, increasing her pace, moderating her breathing. Zoe Morgan was not pathetic. She was strong, independent, a fighter. She needed to face whatever this was with John. Whatever the outcome, she would be a better person for it, of that she was sure.

**Mile 2: *John and …***

John and who? John and Zoe? She never thought she would be an "and". She strived to be just Zoe Morgan. She wasn't an "and", not a "plus one", not a part of a pair. It was a weakness she couldn't allow. She never kept anything personal, anything anyone could construe as important because she wouldn't let anyone take what was rightfully hers. The enemy couldn't hurt you if you weren't part of an "and". Wistfully, she thought, _John and . . . _ A once in a lifetime thought crossed her mind. _Take that chance Zoe._

**Mile 3: *Death***

Protective and dangerous given his chosen profession, he would probably die an early death. Hell, she might too. She had come close last year when Vartanen Pharmaceuticals decided that her services were no longer necessary and that she could be dispensed with. But she wasn't lying when she told Connie Wyler that she wouldn't be around if it weren't for John. She would certainly be six feet under, with no one at her funeral, if John hadn't saved her ass. Did she need that complication in her life? To be the one left behind? Was it fair to ask someone to be the one left behind? Everyone dies at some point; why not take advantage of the opportunity to live a little. The thought of death shouldn't prevent one from living. Don't be afraid to live life to the fullest.

**Mile 4: *Equals***

They were equals in terms of control; they similarly bent the rules to protect those that needed protection. They were fixers in the same sense. They fixed people's problems, they didn't fix people. Damaged in their own ways, separately and collectively, why couldn't they fix themselves? They both had a soft spot for animals, especially a particular Malinois named Bear. They were petrified of the humdrum life offered by places like Far Rockaway, yet each secretly yearned for a normal life. Being fixers didn't allow them to have relationships, no spouses or children. Were they destined to grow old alone? They both preferred to be in the periphery of the real world. As if joining the real world wasn't an option for either one of them. Were they equals? Yes, they were equals. Peas in a pod; similar yet different.

**Mile 5: *Options***

What were her options? What did she want? Did she deserve to want something, anything, anyone? She was well beyond the age of dreaming of fairy tales and happy ever after. She gave up on that foolish notion long ago. But since that night . . . could she . . . would she . . . should she . . . want something with someone? True, she wasn't young anymore. The extent of the relationships she's had, have been on the professional level, never on a personal level and never anything of substance. The truth was, she never wanted to, never found someone even worth spending that time with until he came and saved her ass. So should she . . . could she . . . would she? Yes damnit. She owed it to herself to see where this, whatever this was, could lead.

***Recovery***

Slowing the cadence of her run, Zoe Morgan reached a decision. Five, four, three, two, one. Slowing to a walk, moderating her breathing, she bent over at the waist, resting her hands on her knees, fighting to catch her breath. She deserved this once in a lifetime shot at something of substance. She was a strong, independent woman. Damn the fear of the "plus one" and damn the fear of death, they were equals, mentally, physically, and emotionally. They had options. She was worth it. He was worth it. Together, they deserved a chance.

Still bent over, her breathing finally regulated, she looked down to see a pair of black dress shoes and a bottle of water being handed to her. She took the offering and nodded her thanks. With un-lady-like gulps, she drank without taking her eyes off of his. A silent and mutual understanding was made with nary a word spoken. It was like that with them.

"Ready to talk?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied.

He handed her another key-card. "It's not for the penthouse suite, but it will do."

She took the key-card and nodded. "I have a late client meeting tonight."

"I'll wait for you," he replied with a smile that ran the gamut of emotions either one of them had yet to define.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: The Rating for this chapter jumps up to a strong T. If you are not of age . . . GO AWAY!

AN2: I couldn't leave well enough alone. I have John/Zoe nookie on the brain.

AN3: My skimmer friend (you know who you are) there are parts you may want to gloss over on this one.

* * *

**Chapter 2:**

Her client was a councilman who was also a well respected reverend of a very conservative church with quite a following. He was most unhappy to find out that his name was rumored to have been listed in the black book of a prostitute. In and of itself, that wasn't too damaging to his reputation, however when it turned out that said prostitute, whom he believed was female, was actually male, well, things got a little tricky. It had taken Slip the better part of the evening to track down the tranny, but he was able to do it without fail and was able to offer her, or rather him, a sizeable pay off to conveniently lose the page that contained the councilman's name.

Handing her the offending page, Slip glared at her. "Zoe, next time give me a heads up would you?"

Smirking, barely containing a grin, she said. "Got a surprise did you? I thought you knew better than that."

Snorting and shaking his head, Slip got into his Mercedes and drove away.

* * *

It was later than she had expected, well into the early hours of the morning, but as promised, he was waiting for her. Standing by the window overlooking the city, a barely recognizable dark shadow, he turned to watch her as she walked into the room.

"Zoe," he said; his voice low and rough.

The door closed behind her as she nodded. Taking her coat off, she threw it on the couch. "John," she replied.

Nervous suddenly, she gestured towards his face. "What happened?"

He lightly touched the bruise on his cheek. "You mean this?"

"Yes."

"Misunderstanding," He said succinctly, watching her face closely. Her expression didn't change, and he continued his lazy walk towards her.

Suddenly, she felt irritated with herself. Why was she trying to put this off? This night was about figuring out what they both wanted, whatever the cost. She advanced towards him and met him halfway. Without preamble, she asked, "Do you know why I left?"

Unsure how to respond, John just shook his head.

He was quiet, watching her, letting her talk.

"I . . . you . . . don't..." She had been thinking about a lot of things; saying them in any kind of coherent fashion was the challenge. "I don't want us to be fuck buddies." Her laugh was short and bitter. "That's such a crass term. I should know better. I should know better than to think I have a shot at normal."

He sighed. "Zoe, I'm not sure I understand what you're saying. I certainly didn't agree to be your fuck buddy. And you're right, that is a crass term and I've never cared for it."

"That night, when we agreed to my terms; that's what if felt like," Zoe said. Walking to the couch, she kicked off her shoes and sat leaning against the armrest and drew up her feet. "I know they were my terms, but it just didn't sit right."

John moved, sitting next to her and pulling her legs over his lap. "So, what now?" He asked calmly, and Zoe nearly smiled as she realized he was letting her take the lead. He was allowing her to stumble and fumble her way through her quandary. And the fact that his hands were doing wonderful things to her instep, didn't help matters any.

"I don't know. I know we're moving towards unchartered territory . . ." she said pinching the bridge of her nose.

"I respect you John," she sighed. "What you and Harold do . . . is a good thing." Jesus, she had never in her life had trouble saying what she wanted to say. "I just think that getting into something like this purely for the physical reasons would be a mistake." She thought she had already figured all this out this morning. How she was going to tell him point blank her new terms. But now, it just seemed selfish for her to be asking this of him. Even though she wasn't looking at him, she knew his eyes were searching her face, looking for answers, clues. Signs.

"What do you think is selfish to ask of me Zoe?" John asked. Zoe hadn't realized she had spoken her thoughts out loud.

"This . . ." Zoe said waving her hand between them and around the room, looking back up at him with undisguised fear. Fear of rejection, fear of the unknown, fear of taking that chance.

"Do you regret what happened?" John asked, and so rarely did he dread the answer.

She could see his inner struggle. He was trying his best to stay calm, but just the set of his shoulders told her what this must be costing him. "One thing I'm sure of is that I don't regret what happened." God, if she were truly selfless, she should say "yes" to his question of whether or not they should end this. She wanted to tell him that he didn't deserve to have someone like her want so much from him. He had too many things, more important things, to worry about . . .

"Zoe, you're not making much sense . . . so I'm going to ask you a question. And I want you to answer me without thinking about it," John said, moving her legs to the floor. He pulled her closer to him, face to face.

"What do you want Zoe?" he asked, his voice harsh. He cupped her face in both of his hands, his touch firmer than it needed to be. "Look at me, Zoe."

Unwillingly, she met his eyes.

"I want you . . . me . . . a chance for something good," she whispered looking away, afraid of what his answer would be.

He went very still, finally understanding what she wanted. John knew what she was asking. But did he? Would he? Should he? God knew men like him, with a questionable past and an even more questionable future, shouldn't even consider taking this sort of chance. But damn it, he couldn't help but wish for the "what if". Several moments passed and he still hadn't said a word.

"John, I'm not asking for rainbows and happily ever after . . . that's not what I mean . . . "

He reached over, tucking a strand of hair back behind her ear. "So what you're saying is, basically the same terms as before, we just don't call each other fuck buddies? Am I getting this right?"

Zoe stared at him, open-mouthed, for a long moment before she started laughing. He was right. It was basically the same terms as before. But now the stakes were much more clearly defined.

* * *

John unzipped Zoe's dress and pushed it off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. A grin flickered across his face when he felt her heart thumping. He helped her into the large bathtub. She was struggling to control her breathing. He took off his clothes and slipped in the tub behind her. He picked up the loofah and soaked it under the hot water and bubbles. John put the sponge on Zoe's shoulder and squeezed, letting the warm water relax her. He continued with her back, then reached around and washed her chest. Her heart was racing and her breathing was heavy. She pressed her body back against him. Just to be so close to him, being held by him, felt so…right. Zoe moaned. He moved his hands lower, massaging her.

"Zoe," John whispered. Zoe reached up over her shoulder and put her hand over his lips.

"Don't speak," she said as John started kissing and nibbling her hand. She turned around so they were face to face and straddled him. He soaked the loofah once more under the water and placed it on her shoulder. He moved it lower and let it rest on her breast. He washed each breast slowly, kneading and stroking them. Zoe's breath hitched as his hands moved lower; working their way under the water and between her legs. Zoe shifted to allow him admittance. She began kissing his neck, laving and nipping wherever she had access. Sensing neither of them could wait any longer, she reached between them and guided him inside her. John pulled her to him and kissed her, their tongues dancing a pas de deux. Water splashed out of the tub as their movements became frenzied. She closed her eyes, quickening her movements and taking John with her. The warm sensation intensified until her whole body exploded. Zoe opened her eyes and met John's. She felt him still inside her.

"Are you ready for more?" John whispered, nibbling her ear. "Always," she responded. He slowly pushed her off of him and got out of the tub. "Come on." He held out his hand and helped her out. They took their time drying each other off. Then he guided her to the bed. Zoe started kissing him, moving her hands lower and lower. "No." John said. He knew what she was doing. This time, _he _would be in charge. He made her lay down on the bed, under the warm blanket. He climbed in beside her.

John began kissing her neck as he moved his fingers through her thick hair. She ran her fingers down his spine, pressing them into his back and pulling him close. He moved to pay closer attention to her breasts tasting each tip, rolling them around in his mouth, delighting in the flavor and feel of her.

He felt her heart beat faster as he kissed and licked and nibbled the area around her nipple. Sensing her pleasure, he bit down a little harder and Zoe let out a whimper. John moved his mouth lower, kissing and licking and nibbling her stomach. John moved even lower kissing the inside of her thighs as Zoe massaged his hair and scalp. He moved his mouth he was finally kissing her and licking her and nibbling her. Zoe whimpered again.

"John," she gasped. John retraced the path he took back up to her lips. Zoe pulled him to her and kissed him. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him to her, arching her back as she felt him slowly glide inside. She gasped and bit his lip, then licked at the small wound. He moved purposely, making every movement count. Zoe hooked her arms around his shoulders, forcing his body even closer to hers. They moved faster and faster until they came together and every nerve in their bodies exploded. As their breathing slowed, John kept kissing her – her mouth, her face, her neck, her ears and her eyes. He stayed inside her after the moment had passed and felt her come again.

* * *

Zoe opened her eyes. She felt John's body wrapped around hers and smiled. Last night was beyond description. It wasn't that John was good in bed – he _was _good, sensational even. Last night, she had realized that John knew her and even more importantly, he understood her. Even after fumbling and stumbling through the darkness of her confusion, he was able to cut to the chase and understand what she was trying to say. Zoe Morgan wasn't alone anymore. She had John, for however long this lasted. She knew that John would stand by her and she by him against anything and everything. She was an "and", a plus one, a half to a whole, significant other. And she was okay with that.


End file.
